


you will soar where the stars reside

by magicalmayhems



Series: don't look at your phone verse [8]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, an au of my own au? crazy, and, but mostly comfort this is a goofy addon, except its a divergence of my own fic, i was planning to make this a oneshot and then it spiralled, its like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalmayhems/pseuds/magicalmayhems
Summary: Blue becomes an Elite Four member. It's pretty damn neat, really.OR: i wrote an au of my own au. originally this was a oneshot and then i realized it would never be a oneshot bc i love this verse so much





	you will soar where the stars reside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(my god) don't look at your phone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312693) by [magicalmayhems](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalmayhems/pseuds/magicalmayhems). 



When Blue gets home, Lance is there, sitting calmly with a mug of tea in hand. 

"Ah, Blue." He says easily, nonchalantly, like he always comes around to Blue's house when he's not there. "I was wondering when you'd come back." 

"What? Why?" Blue takes his coat off, hanging it up on the rack, and then takes his shoes off. When he looks back at Lance, the man's studying him with an unreadable look in his eyes. 

"You won the championship," says Lance, like he's musing aloud to himself. 

"Uhhh, yes?" Where is he going with this? Blue's eyebrows quirk sarcastically. "You were there, I beat  _you_." 

"Precisely," says Lance, like that explains anything at all, and puts his free hand on the table. "You beat me. Ergo, you are now Champion, seeing as Red is—ah, MIA." Lance hides a quick wince at that, taking a sip of his tea. 

 _Since Red is probably dead_ , Blue's thoughts fill in grimly. Then, the rest of Lance's statement sinks home. "Woah, woah, wait," he says, taking a step back. "Me? Champ?  _Nah_. Red beat me fair and honest. I'm not accepting the title just 'cause nobody knows where he is. Or how he is." 

Lance sighs. Blue looks over at his face. 

He looks so  _tired_. He sets the mug down and says, "Sit down." 

Blue sits. Lance may be a tired old guy, but he's a tired old guy who Blue idolized for years. "Listen, I'm not gonna be Champ. But I can help out anyway, can't I?" 

"I don't know," says Lance, and he smirks like he's telling a great joke. "How would you feel about becoming an Elite Four member?" 

Blue blinks. Shrugs. "What are the wages like?" He asks, only half-joking. It would let him battle again, the wages are (probably) pretty good, and it would give him something to  _do_  with himself. It sounds like a pretty sweet deal, all things considered, but he's not about to make the decision in two seconds. He's not  _that_  irresponsible. 

Lance opens his mouth to answer, and pauses with his mouth open. It's kind of hilarious, actually. "You're serious?" 

Blue shrugs again. "I mean, I can think about it," he says, fingers drumming on the table. "But, you know. It's not impossible." 

"...Huh," says Lance. Blue cocks an eyebrow at him. He shakes his head. "I honestly wasn't expecting this to go as well as it did," he explains. He takes a long sip of his tea, grimaces, and mutters, "It's gone cold." 

"Pour it down the drain," Blue suggests. "Or add more hot water." 

Lance shakes his head and downs it in one gulp. "I should really get going," he says, standing up. Blue stands with him. Lance looks at him—weighing, assessing—and seems satisfied with whatever he finds. 

Huh. That's—new. 

"Good talk, Blue," Lance says. It hits him suddenly that Lance is  _smiling_ , small and yet real. He holds his hand out for a shake, and Blue shakes it, feeling a little wrong-footed.  

"Good talk," He echoes. 

"I'll forward the Elite Four application to you," Lance tells him. "With your record, it won't take much to get people to agree to have you on."

He turns to leave. Blue blurts, "Was that a compliment?" and winces. What is he, eight? That's so immature. 

Lance turns back around. "It was a fact, but you can take it as you will. Now, is that all?" 

"Uh, yeah." Blue scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.  

"Good," says Lance crisply. "Like I said, check your inbox." He leaves without another word, leaving Blue to stare after him. 

* * *

"Elite Four member Blue Oak," says Daisy. Blue frowns. Is she just teasing him or is she trying to mock him?

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Is that a problem?: 

"What?" She shakes her head rapidly. "No! No, no no, that's not what I—" she stops. Bites her lip. Blurts, "Are you always gonna think the worst of me?" 

Blue winces. "Not—I mean. No. Just—" he sighs. "I dunno." 

(He does know, actually—Gramps gave him hella issues, and Red didn't help, really—but he isn't going to say anything. It would be useless, anyway). 

Daisy sighs, soft and heartbroken—thanks for the guilt trip, sis, love you too—and pastes a smile onto her face. "Do you want to do this?" 

Blue squints at her. "What, fight? No." 

Daisy shakes her head, exasperated. "Not fight. Do you want to become an Elite Four member?" 

"Oh," says Blue. He frowns.  _Does_ he? His immediate thought is  _yes_. "I have to think about it, but probably." 

"Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool cool," Daisy babbles nervously. 

"No doubt no doubt no doubt," Blue returns with a smirk. 

Daisy blinks, then snorts, relaxing. 

* * *

Two days later, over dinner, Blue says, "So I'm going to be an Elite Four member." 

Gramps nearly chokes on his salad. "I beg your pardon?" 

Blue rolls his eyes, spearing a cucumber. "I  _said_  I'm going to be an Elite Four member, Gramps, is your hearing okay? I mean, I know you're an old guy, but—" 

"Blue," says Gramps urgently, "you can't do that." 

Blue thinks of Gramps' hands on a shoulder not his own, thinks of a sterile white lab and desperate, desperate attempts to win approval that was supposed to be his anyway, thinks of the way Gramps' eyes always, always drifted to Red. "Who gave you the right," he asks quietly, fist clenching around his fork, "to decide my life for me?" 

"You don't understand," Gramps says, like he's still a kid, still too young to understand that it's a dog-eat-dog world. 

Blue has known that since he was eight years old. "I understand just fine," he replies. There's a tense, charged silence, broken only by the  _clink_  of silverware. 

"Is Daisy at that boy's house?" Gramps asks dismissively after a few minutes, like nothing ever happened. He probably thinks the matter resolved—probably thinks Blue will just fall back in line like always. Well, not this time. 

"His name is  _Bill_." Blue informs Gramps tersely. He thinks of Lance's fainted Dragonite, of Gyrados, battered and bruised but still awake, still conscious. He thinks of the many, many people who said he was " _a skilled battler, a pride to the Oak name_ " and he makes a decision. 

See, he wasn't entirely sure before. He was just—not bluffing, not really—but just. Testing. Seeing what reaction he could get.

Blue's a battler, really. He could be a lot of other things—probably is, in another world, a scientist or an archaeologist or a researcher or. 

Or, or, or. 

But the thing is, Blue is a battler in this world. 

( _He sends in his application as an attachment to an email grilling Lance about his wages and his hours. He's cocky, sure. But Lance said it himself "it won't take much to get people to agree to have you on", and so he adds, "and when do I start?" and hits send._ ) 

* * *

"You know," says Bruno, "you're really just a kid." 

Blue frowns at him, arms crossing defensively. "I'm not here to get lectured." 

"No, I meant it as a compliment." At Blue's unimpressed look, Bruno continues. "You're a kid, and you've gone so far, so fast. It's pretty damn inspiring." 

Blue shrugs. "You fly the highest you can as fast as you can." He looks around. They're in the Indigo Plateau. This is the dream of kids everywhere—was his dream, too. Now he's here.

"And what happens after?" Bruno asks, like he's genuinely curious to hear the answer. 

"After?" Blue repeats. He smirks. "You watch other people fly as high as you did. Maybe you help them. Maybe you don't. But you always know how it felt." He pins Bruno with a look, and he says, "Don't you." 

It's supposed to be a question. It's not. Bruno grins. He likes this kid and his metaphors and his cocksure attitude. "Sure do, kiddo," he says, and smirks when Blue rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever, old man," he says. His lips purse when that doesn't get a reaction. "So, how would you feel about getting some donuts?" He eyes his abs speculatively and adds, "Or does your macho tough-guy fighter act not allow for some Krispy Kreme?" 

Bruno laughs. "As long as you pay, I'll go." 

"You drive a hard bargain," says Blue, but it's pretty clear what his answer is. "Do you need a lift?" 

Bruno waves a hand dismissively. "Eh, I'll find my way." He pauses. "Also, I'm texting Lorelei. She'd be pissed if she knew I got donuts with the new kid without her." 

Blue rolls his eyes and walks out the door. Bruno's phone pings—it's a text with the address.

* * *

Lorelei is sitting at the same Krispy Kreme that Blue told Bruno they'd eat at. He slides into the booth across from her. "How the hell did you get here so fast," he says, instead of greeting her like a normal person. 

"I was in the area," she replies. "I hope you like chocolate filling." 

"We are going to be great friends." Blue says solemnly.

"We already are," she tells him, and hands him a donut. "Here. Eat." 

Blue bites into it and scans the room. Nobody is staring, which is good. Here, in this place, he could almost pretend he's nothing and nobody. 

Could. But that's boring. Blue's always wanted attention, wanted people to look at him and  _see_  him instead of looking right past him like he's unimportant.

So he chews his donut and swallows. "No comment about how young I am?" 

Lorelei meets his eyes. "You've earned your place. Did Bruno mention your age?" 

"The first words out of his mouth were 'you know, you're really just a kid'." Blue bites into his donut. He chews, swallows, and licks the filling from his fingertips. 

Lorelei rolls her eyes and facepalms. "You've earned your place," she repeats, just as Bruno enters. She looks up and waves him over. 

"Did you get lost in the mail?" Blue snarks. 

"Ha ha." Bruno deadpans, taking one of the donuts and putting the whole thing in his mouth. He opens his mouth to speak. His face does  _something_  and Blue snorts. 

"Any more bright ideas, Einstein?" He asks, eyebrows quirking. 

Bruno thinks,  _don't fight a kid_. 

 _Battle him instead_ , says something else in him—that thing that made him train his Pokémon just as hard as he did himself. 

Lorelei laughs. "He's very impulsive," she murmurs, like she's revealing some great secret. "You'll get used to it." 

"Don't turn the new kid against me." Bruno complains, after chewing and swallowing. He steals her uneaten donut. 

* * *

**macho man**

**Jan 7, 10:43 am**

aight so like

what's agatha's deal

what

i mean like

am i ever going to meet her 

is she just a cryptid

blue wtf

shes not a cryptid just v antisocial 

* * *

**the three musketeers**

**Jan 7, 11:52 am**

whatamellown:  _why_

you: bc

macho man: blue,,,,,,,,,you could have done SO MUCH BETTER 

you: you change the gc name if ur so clever

whatamellown: why do you type out you once and then go 'u'

you: bc i  _can_

you: hey bruno are you changing the gc name or what

macho man: i

macho man: uh

macho man: i got nothing

you: oh???????? how the turntables 

* * *

_The first time Blue meets his grandmother, it goes like this:_

_He's standing at the Pokémon Center in the Indigo Plateau, waiting patiently for Nurse Joy to heal the bruises gained from this latest training session. The few stragglers—those trying to screw up their courage, or get autographs from Lorelei or Bruno or even himself, a couple times—go still. They stare at the great double doors._

_Blue turns. He doesn't know that this is his grandmother, not yet, but he knows that this is Agatha. He waves._

_He receives a quirked brow and a nod back._

_(And he does not know it, but Agatha's old heart is beating hard in her chest—almost breaking, almost, but no. Not quite. He does not know and she will not tell him.)_

* * *

"Why did you do it," Gramps asks, tired. "I know you dislike me, but you picked an entire career just to spite me—"

Blue says, "Bold of you to assume you have any control over my decisions." Gramps did, in fact, have a lot of control over his life. But he's trying to wrench the control back—freely given, forcibly taken back—and one part of that is choosing a career because  _he_  wanted it, with no regard to what Gramps said or thought or did. 

"Why did you do it," Gramps repeats. 

There are a thousand things he could say. "I'm good at it" or "it makes me happy" or "to watch people go where I did" or "because I'm always going to want to battle". He doesn't say any of that. 

He says, "Because I could." He adds, "Because I wanted to." 

Gramps' expression twists into something harsh. "You're a child." 

It doesn't sound warm. It doesn't sound teasing, or admiring. It's cold, and bitter. Subtext says "you don't know what you want". 

"And I'm better than you." Blue says, matter-of-fact. He  _is_  a kid. That doesn't make him any less competent. "I'm a kid and I'm doing better than you are." 

"You're more arrogant than I am." Gramps says, disapproving. "You don't know what you're getting into. You're a child. You're rash, and impulsive, and you're making misinformed decisions." 

"At least those decisions are  _mine_ ," Blue's hands curl into fists, shaking. "At least I make my own mistakes instead of being your little errand boy. At least my life is mine." 

"Your life is always yours. You just constantly make terrible decisions with what to do with it." 

Blue looks at him, meets his eyes, and says, "I'd rather make terrible decisions for the rest of my life than let  _you_  decide what to do with it." 

Gramps raises his eyebrows condescendingly. "Oh, is that so? Well, fine. See how well you do for yourself." 

* * *

The Indigo League ✓  
@indigoleague 

Congratulations to @bluesoak, our newest Elite Four member!

**Jan 7 - 12:43 pm**

* * *

Blue raises an eyebrow at the youngster who's been tailing him for the past ten minutes. "You know I can see you, right?" He asks, and gets to see the very amusing sight of the kid flushing bright red and scampering—oh wait no, he's coming back.

"Uh," the kid mumbles. He shoves a notebook and a pen into Blue's hands and gets out, all in a rush, "Can you sign this please?" Except it sounds like a statement and not a question. 

Blue blinks. "Okay?" He says uncertainly, taking the notebook and scrawling his name on the empty page the kid points at. "Is there a reason you were following me instead of, you know, asking?" 

"You're  _famous_ ," he tells him, like that explains anything at all. 

"Sure am," Blue agrees, handing the kid back his pen. 

"Random nobodies can't talk to famous people." The kid clutches the pen like it's something holy. 

Blue barely stifles a snort. "Okay, man," he says dubiously, and on a whim flicks the kid's cap over his eyes. The kid  _screeches_. It's quiet, but it's there, quietly insistent. 

This is the weirdest week of Blue's life. 


End file.
